And It Only Gets Worse
by All Hail The Brain
Summary: rewrite/collab / / Evan Goldman is done for when he moves from New York to the middle of nowhere. It wouldn't be so bad if the middle of nowhere wasn't the lamest place in the world, Lucy Dunn wasn't scheming against her BFF, his next door neighbor wasn't suddenly giving him the cold shoulder, he wasn't being blackmailed, and his bar mitzvah wasn't coming up. R&R {love rhombus}
1. Scene I

Full Summary: Evan Goldman has a pretty good life, he lives in New York, he's popular, he's smart, but all that is about to change.

From the heart of Manhattan to the middle of nowhere all because of a _stewardess._ Who leaves his son and loving wife for a stewardess? Evan's dad, that's who.

It wouldn't so bad though, you know, if the middle of nowhere wasn't _the lamest place in the world;_ Lucy Dunn, the cattiest, cruelest, most vindictive, ruthless, and manipulative girl in all of _Indiana_ (aka: the lamest place in the world) wasn't scheming against her BFF, the most popular girl in school and head cheerleader, Kendra; his next door neighbor, Patrice, who he kinda sorta maybe is starting to like like (but he also has a thing for Lucy because he doesn't _know_ that she's the cattiest, cruelest, most vindictive, ruthless, and manipulative girl in all of Indiana), wasn't suddenly giving him the cold shoulder; a boy with a terminal illness (read: manipulative bastard named Archie) wasn't blackmailing him; the most _popular_ boy in school didn't need his help getting Lucy's best friend; he had friends besides Lucy's really sarcastic twin, Lewis; he wasn't going through puberty; and his bar mitzvah wasn't around the corner.

Without all that, it's just _fantasmic_ that he moved to the middle of nowhere.

* * *

**Scene I _It Only Gets Worse_**

* * *

**EVAN**

**2**24 West 92nd Street, the heart of Manhattan. That's where I live. Live_d._ Yes, past tense. My mom is moving us out of the _greatest city in the world_ to the _middle of nowhere_ because Dad met a stewardess (and damn it, she's nice and understanding!) and now I have to have my bar mitzvah there!

Where is the _middle of nowhere,_ you ask?

Appleton, Indiana.

I'm so screwed.

"How bad could Appleton _be,_ Ev?" This is my best friend, Dan. We go way back, as in, sonograms. Our moms grew up together so we did too. But now I have to leave him and all my friends behind because Mom went crazy and cut Dad's head out of photos and is hopped up on depression meds!

"That's not even the worst part. The second I turned 12, everything went to hell! And it's only gotten worse since my dad met that stewardess! And now I'm moving to _Indiana?_ I'm freaking out, Dan!"

"You think 12 is bad?" He laughs.

"**Well, 12 is hell / I've memorised / My mom's yell / My life was great / In New York state / But 1 day in October / When even Uncle Jack was sober / And I turned 12 / My life went to hell! / Chores to do / Girls confuse / Puberty / And I'm a casualty!**"

"Okay, but** it only gets worse! / 12 is hell / But the ride's not over yet / And it's a one way ticket,**" he sings right back.

"**I can assure you, Evan! / It only gets worse!**" The rest of the kids in the park chorus.

"**Becoming a man / Is awkward and terse,**" the guys sing, hanging their heads in shame.

"**Being a girl / Is 10 times worse,**" the girls sing, glaring at us.

"How so?" I ask, curious.

"**Tampons / Menstrauting / Cramps / Cliques / Backstabbers / Gossip / Rumors / _Boys!_**" They belt out. Oh, my _Jewish_ God.

"Whoa! TMI! Evan, why would you ask them that?" Dan smacks the back of my head.

"I didn't know it was that bad!" I exclaim, rubbing said spot.

"Whatever. Just, let me explain how terrible turning 13 is going to be for you. T**he birds and the bees / When Dad talks about puberty / Your friends go insane / What the hell happened to your brain? / The pressure mounts / You have your doubts,**" he explains.

"**'Cause it only gets worse!**" The kids chorus.

"**And becoming a man / Is hell over again / So I've got 'til 1 day in October / When even Uncle Jack is sober / And then I turn —** " I sing, the tempo slowing.

"**13!**" They chorus, the tempo back to speed.

"**It's getting worse!**" Dan exclaims.

"**13!**"

"**Why's this happening?**" I groan.

"**13!**"

"**Dude, it freaking sucks!**" Dan tells me.

"**13!**"

"**Does it only get worse?**" I ask.

"**13!**"

"**Yeah, it only gets worse!**" We melodize.

"**You're becoming a man / If only they'd tell you what that means,**" he slows down the tempo again, patting my back.

"**I'm just Evan / I don't know these scenes / I forget the words to the song / Mix up my lines along / The way / 'Cause 12 is hell / And apparently / 13 is worse / But where does it end? / It can't be a 1 way ticket / It can't get worse!**" I croon.

"**But it only gets worse!**" They chorus.

"**Hormones / Boners / Voice cracks / B.O. / Testosterone / Dating / _Girls!_**" Us guys exclaim. It feels good to let it out. It feels free._  
_

"**And your parents / Just don't get it / They forget it / Is hell! / And they're like broken records,**" we all harmonize.

"**They keep going on about —** " I sing.

"**No, you're not ready,**" the guys sing in unison.

"**No, it's not right now,**" the girls chorus.

"**No, it's not time yet!**" We all belt.

"**Well, when am I ready? / When is it ri — ight? / When is it ti — ime?**" I sing, frustrated with it all.

"**What if I want it? / What if I act out? / What if I kiss him? / What if I put out?**" The girls chorus.

"**What if I don't want to? / What if I lash out? / What if I stop caring? / What if I smo — oke?**" Us guys sing.

"**They keep raging that / I can't do this / I can't do that / I'm not old enough / So I'll stop listening!**" We all harmonize, forming a chord that sounds almost as repressed and strained as us. Well, to me.

"**Did they ever stop to think that it's because they won't let me?**" I belt. It's so frustrating. They won't listen and they won't let me do _anything_ and they keep screaming!

"**So what if I rebel? / I can't do anything else!**" Dan exclaims.

"**12 is hell / But it only gets worse! / They keep pushing / School is demanding —** " we all chorus.

"**Am I fat? / Why'd Karen stab me in the back? / Does he like like me? / Am I going crazy?**" The girls sing.

"**I look dumb / Sports aren't fun / My voice keeps cracking / Why's this happ'ning?**" Us guys vent.

"**But it only gets worse!**" They all tell me.

"I'm losing my mind!" I yell.

* * *

We leave today. She'll have to drag me to the airport. She'll have to pry my fingers from the fire escape! I can't leave New York!

_Especially_ not for Indiana. All my friends are _here._ Dan is here, Steve is here, Al is here, Jerry is here, Avery is here, Taylor is here, Luke is here, they're all here. Nina Handelman is here. Nina. Handelman.

My mom dragging me to Indiana is ruining my love life too! I almost had Nina Handelman and now I'm moving!

"Evan! Hurry, we're leaving!" My mom calls. Do you know what that _really_ means? It's Jewish for: _don't even _think_ about escaping through the window!_ Which means the fire escape is a _bust. _Perfect. Just perfect.

"Coming," I groan, grabbing my suitcase. Grabbing. My. Suitcase. I grab my suitcase. My suitcase. Do you see what's wrong with this? Do you? I do. And so should you. Oh, my God—I'm rhyming! _Why_ am I rhyming?

I hate this.

"Evan!" Translation: _we are _leaving—_whether you like it or not!_ Dear God, strike me down if you have as much mercy as The Bible claims._  
_

I hold my breath and squeeze my eyes shut. My finger nails dig into my palms. Okay, no, that hurts.

...

Nothing. Well, that's just fan—fucking—tastic. Isn't it!? Okay, Evan, breathe. In and out, in and out, out and in—wait a minute. You mixed it up. Great. You managed to screw up directions. Gah!

"_Evan!_"

I'm going to die.

* * *

Patrice. My next door neighbor's name is Patrice.

That's the first thing I learn about Indiana. Well, no. The second. The very first thing—it's the lamest place in the world. I'm serious. She told me that.

It went something (and when I say "something," I mean exactly) like this:

"Oh, you must be the guy Pam was talking about. Evan Goldman, the latest victim of the _lamest_ place in the world. I'm Patrice, maybe she mentioned me, maybe she didn't."

I kid you not, she called Appleton, Indiana "the lamest place in the world." Her own hometown. She seriously hates it. Apparently, the kids at school—Dan Quayle Junior High—don't help the counterargument. Counterargument. I'm using words like "counterargument." That'll be great for making friends.

Speaking of friends—"get the gnome, buddy!" I throw this weird naked lady gnome-esque (even more words _great_ for making friends; note my sarcasm) as far as I can for Pam's giant dog to fetch. He and Patrice are my only friends so far. I can live with that.

For now.

Patrice is pretty cool. And pretty. Never mind the last thing. Please? Anyways, she likes old, black and white movies and can tell you what year the American revolution started (1775) and she throws like hell.

She gets sort of quiet when I ask her about school though. It's weird. The most I can get (after a single successful interrogation thingy) is "just drop it, Evan." Talk about progress.

"Hey, Evan, wanna go to the Dairy Queen down the road?" She pipes up.

"Why not? Rover might break the naked lady if we keep playing fetch," I laugh a little, wiping his saliva from my hand.

She smiles. It's bright and warm and happy and for a second, it won't get worse. Then Rover tackles me.

* * *

_reviews are appreciated_

_(collab w/ The Bitch Who Died)_

_(rewrite of "& It Only Gets Worse")_


	2. Scene II

**Scene II**_** All the Odds**_

* * *

**From the Perspective of a Drama Queen**

"There's a new kid," Charlotte says, falling in place in the chair across from me.

"What? Why didn't you tell me?" I snap. She _knows_ I hate not knowing about new kids, I need heads up to mess with them. Heads up _way_ before the last week of summer.

"I just did," she shrugs, playing dumb.

"I mean sooner," I press, rolling my eyes.

"He only got here 2 weeks ago, I didn't even know if he was in our grade until a few hours ago, Lucy," she defends herself.

"_He?_ Is he cute?" I ask. What? I'm a 13 — okay, _technically_ 12 and a half — year old girl, it's perfectly normal for me to want to know this.

"Yeah, but he's been hanging out with Gollum," she sighs.

"Wait, _what?_ No one's told him what a loser she is yet?" I demand.

"No one had a chance, he moved in right next door to her," she says, adjusting her ponytail and glancing down at my untouched fro yo, "you're not eating?"

"Never mind that, ugh, a cute guy wasted on Gollum," I groan, throwing my uneaten fro yo in the trash so I won't get fat.

"Lucy, Charlotte! Why didn't you tell me you guys were gonna be at DQ?" Kendra, my best friend, laughs, joining us.

"Oh, we didn't plan on it, we were just walking around town, — and we all know there's not much to do here — gossiping about the new kid," Charlotte smiles, giggling a little.

"New kid?" Kendra tilts her head.

"Yeah, he's cute, I think his name's Evan, but he moved next door to Gollum so, he's a lost cause unless Lucy cares to "persuade" him," Char giggles.

"You know I like Brett," I roll my eyes, stirring the ice cubes in my water around with a straw. It's only a half-truth though. Brett's an ass. I'm just expected to like him. We all are. He _is_ hot though. I'll give him that.

"Wait, you like Brett?" Kendra asks, eyes wide.

"Yes, Kendra, I like the hottest boy in our school who can sing _and_ is quarterback," I deadpan, God, how clueless is she?

"Oh, it's just . . . _I _like Brett," she mumbles, fidgeting with the hem of her blouse.

"_Oh._" She. Did. Not. "And _why_ didn't you tell me, your _best_ friend?"

"Well, I . . . I thought you knew," she mumbles. Again.

"My God, Kendra, learn to speak up," I roll my eyes. Fine. She wants Brett, she can have him.

For now.

Oh, Lucy Dunn, you have outdone yourself this time.

* * *

It's a good thing Charlotte's a gossip, my plan would never come off otherwise.

Wait, I have to check how I look first, appearance is important if I'm gonna try this. Okay, hair looks great, makeup's fine, outfit's awesome, skipping breakfast and lunch was definitely a good idea. And we are set.

God knows how long later, I'm in front of the mall, where Charlotte knew Evan and Gollum would be, "on my phone."

"Mom, I _can't _walk home, it's freezing! But — Mom, please. Lewis _can't_ come get me with his stupid bike, he's hanging out with Brett and the smurfs," I argue, shivering a little. I wasn't lying about that part. Okay, maybe it's my fault for wearing a spaghetti strap top, but it's summer. And part of the plan. "Mom, just, please — fine." I hang up in defeat, groaning and burying my face in my hands.

"Whoa, hey, are you okay?" A boy asks, putting a warm hand on my shoulder.

"Yeah, _fantastic,_ I only have to walk all the way across town to get home," I fake a laugh.

"What? That sucks, look, uh, I'm Evan Goldman, and, uh, I could give you a lift, my mom's picking me and my neighbor up," he rambles. Perfect. I give him a quick once over, ooh, he _is_ cute.

"Really? You'd do that for me?" I ask, with wide, hopeful eyes.

"Well, yeah, who knows what'd happen to you if you walked home alone," he shrugs, tugging at his shirt collar.

"Thank you _so_ much, you're a life saver," I smile gratefully, going on my toes to hug him. He awkwardly places his hands on my back, obviously trying to figure out where exactly they should go.

Someone clears their throat.

I pull away, his hands falling abruptly to his sides.

"_Lucy?_" An all too familiar voice asks.

"Oh, hey, Patrice," I try not to choke on her name, "wait, are _you_ Evan's neighbor?"

"Never mind that, what are you doing?" She demands, venom in her voice. Ooh, does Gollum have a _crush_ on Evan? Well, this is _interesting._

"Thanking Evan for offering to give me a ride home," I shrug, innocently.

"Wait, why do you need a ride home all of a sudden?" She asks, suspiciously.

"My mom has to work late and my dad's on a business trip," I inform her, innocently. What? I have to make Evan think I'm innocent, and besides, the murderous look Gollum is giving me is hilarious. "So, Evan, you're new in town, right?" He nods. I link our arms just to annoy Gollum. "Where are you from?" I ask, genuinely curious.

"New York," he says, looking relieved that Gollum isn't trying to murder me. Stupid boys, girls can only do mean things to each other secretly, sometimes we even pretend to be friends with each other, like in Mean Girls.

"Wow. But why would anyone wanna move from _New York _to . . . Well, here?" I ask, tilting my head.

"My mom and dad are getting a divorce and we've got family out here," he shrugs.

"I'm so sorry," I say, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"It's okay, the only real problem I have with it is that I'm turning 13 soon," he laughs a little.

"Oh, that sucks, I'm glad I don't have to worry about that until December," I smile.

"Lucky you — oh, that's my mom's car," he grins as a Honda pulls up. "Hey, Mom, this is Lucy, she needs a ride home."

"What are you waiting for then, Evan, be a gentleman and open the door for her," Ms. Goldman snaps at her son. I smile when he obliges and maintain eye contact with him as I sit down. Rule 1 of flirting? Eye contact. You don't make eye contact, you don't get to bat your eyelashes. You don't get to bat your eyelashes, he doesn't get the hint. "Get the door for Patrice, too, while you're at it."

"Right, Mom," he says. Cute, he's a gentleman.

"Sweetie — " Ms. Goldman turns to look at me.

"I live 2 blocks away from you, I'll point it out when we get there," I smile kindly.

"Well, aren't you smart; real pretty, too," she smiles right back.

"Aw, that's so sweet," I coo, "but I'm not _that_ pretty, I mean, I guess I'm alright but — "

"Alright? You're insanely hot!" Evan pipes up. He then realizes what he said. And covers his mouth, looking mortified. _Finally,_ someone realizes how_amazing_ I look!

I, realizing the opportunity, give him a quick kiss on the cheek. Patrice glares daggers.

"**Does she know? / Did she feel that spark? / And even though / Puberty / Is killing me / Could she like like me?**" Evan sings, his hand where my lips were seconds ago.

"**Pray to God / That he got the hint / And hope his mom / Favors me / Over Patrice / Or my plan won't work**," I sings to myself, glancing at him.

"Is she doing what I think she is? Is she trying to steal him away? Oh, my God," Patrice murmurs, horror in her voice.

"**And I'll get / All the odds if I have to / I'll power through / To get this / And this had / Better work / 'Cause I need it / Run me dry / If you have to —** " he and I melodize.

"**'Cause I see sparks fly,**" he crescendoes.

"This is bad. This is really bad if she is. She's going to ruin my life. Again." Oh, don't be so _dramatic,_ Patrice.

"**Oh, my God / She smiles at me / I'm in heaven / Past this drought / For a moment / She's freaking perfect.**" Sweet of him to sing. And _really,_ it's about damn time someone realizes how _hot_ I am _without_ taking it for granted. It takes time to look this _amazing._

Crap, I'm getting off track. "**Focus, Lucy / This is for your plan / To get at / The boy you like / Even if it's not right.**"

"She's going to. She's really going to. That bitch. I hate her so much." Did the little bitch just call _me_ a bitch? Oh, she is going _down._

"**And I'll get /All the odds if I have to / I'll power through / To get this / And this had / Better work / 'Cause I need it / Search the haystack / If you have to —** " Evan and I melodize. Again.

"**'Cause I want the quarterback,**" I belt, ending on a high note as a slap in the face to that mezzo bitch who actually _questioned_ whether or not I should get a solo because it had a note "only a soprano could hit without a falsetto." Well, I hit the crap out of that note, alto my —

"**Freaking God / Is she Satan? / I swear this is / The worst day yet / Damn, damn this / She's such a bitch.** Okay, I . . . I can deal with this. I can fight for him, Lucy and I have been in fights before, that's how we got here after all," again with the word "bitch," Patty? And Satan? Really? Well . . . That does give me ideas for Halloween . . . Anyways, we both know I'll win.

"**And I'll get /All the odds if I have to / I'll power through / To get this / And this had / Better work / 'Cause I need it / Bring your worst / If you have to — **" we harmonize. Ooh, that was a pretty chord. Gollum and I sing surprisingly well together . . . I guess we _were_ friends at a time. For a reason. Best friends. For a reason. Really. I couldn't just have _1_ best friend.

"**'Cause I had him first,**" she's gotten better at belting.

"**It's all for the plan / To get what I demand,**" I do it better though. Belting, I mean. Especially in a more comfortable part of my range. Which is very impressive, if I do say so. And I do.

"**Whoa / Whoa / Whoa!**" _Is_ she a mezzo or has she ascended into full on soprano? That was pretty high, at a forte, too.

"**Sparks fly! / Right by!**" Evan has a powerful voice, pretty good range too. That's a turn on.

"**For the quarterback / With my master plan!**" I intone.

"**I hope we still have some miracles left,**" he almost laughs, it's nervous in a geeky way. A cute geeky way though.

"**I need to pray to get,**" she sings.

"**All!**" He belts for a measure.

"**The!**" I belt _another_ measure.

"**Odds!**" She follows suit.

"**To get this,**" we all harmonize in a piano.

**EVAN**

"Here we are," Lucy says, pointing at a large house, "thanks for the ride, Ms. Goldman."

"Any time, darling," Mom smiles sweetly.

"Bye, Evan," Lucy waves . . . Flirtatiously? Oh, my God, is she flirting with? Please, please, please let her be flirting with me. I mean, she's smiling like she is! That's gotta mean something!

"Bye, Lucy," my voice cracks. Of course my voice cracks. Stupid puberty.

Patrice elbows me in the kidney. You know, not like I need my kidney. I send her a bewildered look because I did _nothing!_ She crosses her arms and turns away with a glare.

What?

I didn't even do anything!

Girls are so confusing.

* * *

_reviews are appreciated_


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